


Five Times Kasumi Misused Her Tactical Cloak (And One Time Shepard Did)

by madamebadger



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: 5 Things, F/F, Femslash, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Invisibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebadger/pseuds/madamebadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Don’t worry,” Kasumi said, “I may be untrustworthy, but you can trust me.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Kasumi Misused Her Tactical Cloak (And One Time Shepard Did)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stealth_Noodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/gifts).



> The story spans both Mass Effect 2 and 3, and plays a little bit fast and loose with the timeline. Spoilers for both and for the Citadel DLC.

There were a lot of people on The Illusive Man’s recruitment list that Shepard was dubious about. But the master thief was fairly low on the list. Certainly Shepard was less worried about Kasumi than she was about a not-yet-mature krogan with more instincts than sense, a mercenary who apparently was the sole survivor of almost every mission he’d ever been on, and a psychologist-slash-comm-specialist who was probably reading all her mail. (Not to mention Jacob and Miranda, who seemed like intelligent, capable, likable people and yet who had for some reason signed up with a violently xenophobic terrorist group. She was going to have to figure out what was going on there before she could completely trust them.)

Next to that, a thief seemed not so bad.

Shepard reconsidered that the day that Kasumi ambushed her in Starboard Observation, when she thought it was empty. She’d been staring out the wide windows, looking at a thousand steadily-burning stars and wondering what would happen to them when the Reapers came back, when a voice very close to her ear said, “It’s quite the view out here, isn’t it?”

Shepard didn’t jump out of her skin and she didn’t have a heart attack, which she counted as a win. Instead, she spun around and grabbed for the speaker—who, of course, wasn’t there when she grabbed. She forced herself to relax and said to the empty air, “I wouldn’t recommend doing that. There are a lot of heavily armed people on this ship, and some of them are pretty trigger-happy and good at violence.”

“Well, then it’s fortunate that I’m good at not getting shot.” Kasumi’s voice came from an entirely different part of the room, now. Shepard didn’t turn to look at it—she knew exactly how ridiculous she would look, whirling around to speak to each place Kasumi’s voice seemed to come from. Not to mention that Kasumi undoubtedly had the technology to sound like she was coming from anywhere, if she so chose.

So she said, calmly, “Kasumi.”

“Yes, Shep?” The voice came from yet another place. Not _Commander_ , there was not and never would be a military bone in Kasumi’s body, and Shepard had already decided not to fight it.

“Decloak, please.”

Kasumi did, and now she was in yet another place, sitting on the couch with one leg crossed casually over the other. Maybe she’d been there the whole time. She was smiling, though—even with her hood pulled down as far as it went, you could always see her mouth—and it wasn’t a smirk or a smug expression but just a smile, like she was having fun rather than like she was having a joke at your expense. That, dubious as it was, did put Shepard at ease. “I just thought I’d come and say hello,” Kasumi continued.

“Invisible?”

Kasumi shrugged. “It’s a habit,” she said.

“I’m not sure I approve of you sneaking around the ship invisible.”

“That’s a shame, I’m really going to feel bad about making you disapprove of me.”

“ _Kasumi_.”

Kasumi reached for a pouch at her belt and spilled a collection of small skittery objects across the table. It took Shepard a moment to realize what they were, but she was engineer enough to recognize them: bugs. Some listening devices, some audio plus video, some that recorded biological life signs. 

Someone was being really _thorough_ about keeping tabs on her.

“I found them,” Kasumi said, “while I was sneaking around the ship invisible.”

Shepard didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she said, “In the ducts?”

Kasumi shrugged, as if it wasn’t anything much. “And elsewhere. I figured I ought to find out what was around.”

“I’m glad you did,” Shepard said, quietly, because she wasn’t so proud she needed to stand on ceremony. Kasumi’s smile widened, as if she knew what it meant, and probably she did. “If you find any more bugs, dispose of them, will you?”

“Does that mean I can sneak around your ship invisible?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard could see her dimple, even beneath that low hood.

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I don’t want to see video of my crew turning up on the extranet.”

“Don’t worry,” Kasumi said, “I may be untrustworthy, but you can trust me.”

***

Shepard had gotten used to the unexpected voice in her ear, but still, it came as a surprise when she was browsing at Rodam Expeditions and she heard, “That’s a nice upgrade. Don’t let them scalp you for it, though.”

She was so used to Kasumi by now that she didn’t jump at all. Instead, she said, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You can bargain them down by at least a thousand.”

“I know,” Shepard said, “I—” She paused. The people in the shop all turned to look at her. Great: half the galaxy already thought she was nuts for talking about Reapers, and now they’d see her talking to thin air. “Decloak, would you?”

“All right,” Kasumi said, and materialized. 

The storekeeper jumped visibly, then flattened his mandibles to his face, a distinctly unhappy expression. “You,” he said to Kasumi. “Get out. No cloaks in my—”

“She’s with me,” Shepard said, and he subsided with a glower.

“You know where the good deals are,” Kasumi said calmly, resting one hip against the counter.

Shepard sighed. “Kasumi, please don’t steal anything in a shop I’ve just recorded a promo for.”

“You’ve recorded a promo for every shop in Zakera Ward.”

“Then pick another ward. And don’t steal from any shops while I’m actually in them, okay? Actually, no, just don’t shoplift anything while you’re on my crew.”

Kasumi made a moue, half-playful, half-serious. “Not _anything_?”

“All right, you can steal from mercenary companies. And ridiculously unethical moguls. And if you want to siphon some credits off The Illusive Man…”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Kasumi interrupted, “I wasn’t stealing anything. Give a girl a break, Shep.”

“Then what’s with the tactical cloak?”

“Sometimes I just don’t like to be stared at, that’s all.” Kasumi ran her fingertips along the counter. “It’s nice to be invisible for a while. Not to be stared at. Or even looked at.”

Shepard couldn’t help it: “You know people wouldn’t stare if your suit wasn’t so tight in the ass.”

“You noticed!” Kasumi beamed. “I’m flattered. Really, I am.”

“Of course I noticed,” Shepard said, backtracking as fast as she could. Yes, she’d been checking out Kasumi’s ass. Yes, she’d appreciated it, especially combined with the flexibility that Kasumi displayed on missions. Yes, she’d been charmed by the thief’s personable nature… and yes, she’d probably taken it too seriously that Kasumi talked to her when she avoided almost everyone. “Everyone notices. There’s probably lichen on Tuchanka that notices your butt in that outfit. That’s the problem, right?”

“I didn’t know you liked girls, Shep.” Kasumi dimpled, and Shepard felt her heart thud.

She covered it with exasperation. “You don’t have to be interested in women to _notice_.”

“But you do.”

Shepard allowed herself to feint that one. “I’m surprised you didn’t just break into my diary to check on who, or what, I’m attracted to.”

And Kasumi grinned again, a deceptively warm expression. “I tried. I don’t believe you have a diary. At least, not in any of your digital files. I suppose you might have a physical diary.”

“You’re impossible, Kasumi.”

“And charming, don’t forget that.” Kasumi straightened. “Now that you’ve bought that pretty little gun upgrade, do you want to get a bite to eat?”

Shepard laughed. “As long as we _pay_.”

Kasumi drew herself up as though she’d been insulted. “Stiffing the waitstaff is no challenge at all,” she said. “Plus it’s just tacky. I prefer to make my fortune robbing the wealthy and insufferable. I _buy_ at cafes.”

“Then you can pick up the tab,” Shepard said.

“I was planning on it,” Kasumi said. She offered her elbow… and then went dark. Shepard laughed, sighed, and took her invisible arm.

***

_They’re going to be the death of me_ , Shepard thought as she boarded the elevator. It was hard enough making the kinds of decisions she’d had to make on Tuchanka without having to justify herself endlessly to the council.

When the elevator whisked open and let her into her quarters, the only thing she could think was that she wanted badly to get out of her travel-wrinkled clothes and have a cup of tea. But before she could even get her boots off, Edi’s voice came in over the comm: “Commander, I feel that I should inform you that Ms. Goto is in your quarters.”

“Spoilsport,” said Kasumi’s voice from the chair next to Shepard’s bed.

Edi’s voice sounded mildly affronted: “I have not informed Mister Vega of your adjustments to his weight set. Nor did I tell Ms. Lawson that it was you who had gone through her underwear drawer. And I didn’t—”

“All right, Edi,” Kasumi interrupted. “I suppose you’re not so bad.”

“Underwear drawer?” Shepard asked. “Do I want to know?”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything bad,” Kasumi said. “I was just curious what kind of heavy structural support you need to be able to run around like she does while endowed like she is. Got to be pretty impressive technology at work. I was hoping I could get some tips on brands… not that I have quite that problem myself.”

“Kasumi, what are you _doing_ in here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Decloak, please,” Shepard said, and Kasumi did, sparkling into existence—sure enough, in the low chair positioned next to Shepard’s bed. She was sitting sideway with her legs curled under her, her hands laced comfortably around one knee. Shepard came down the short flight of stairs. “Were you still trying to find my diary? Because I don’t actually have one.”

“No, I just wanted to see if I could get in.” She smiled, looking both amused and pleased with herself. “The answer is ‘yes,’ by the way, except for Edi ratting me out.”

“So the answer is ‘no.’”

“She’s not the only spoilsport.” Kasumi shifted position, draping one leg sideways across the arm of the chair, as if she owned the place. “Actually, Shep, I wanted to see if you needed someone to talk to. I miss the way we used to talk, back when we were going up against the Collectors. You remember.”

She remembered. It had been one of her favorite breaks in the day, stopping by to see how Kasumi was doing, share the daily gossip. Drink surprisingly strong, ridiculously-colored drinks. “You could always come back. You know you’d be welcome.”

“I’m doing more good where I am.” Her expression turned wistful. “It really was… wonderful, being part of your team, you know. And there’s almost no one I could say that about. I’m not much of a follower. But I do work better on my own.”

“I miss you,” Shepard said suddenly, and realized it was true. It was very true. She missed that little space in her day where she could just be a person with a friend rather than being The Commander. Kasumi really _wasn’t_ a follower, so while she followed orders in combat, outside of combat she acted like an equal. She missed that.

Kasumi smiled. “Well, I’m here now. You don’t have to miss me. So.” She stretched, arching her back, then settled again with her hands folded. “Fill me in on everything.”

“Well,” Shepard said, sitting on the steps to take off her boots, “remember how you always used to say that Ken and Gabby would make a great couple?”

“Yes?” Kasumi said, and then her eyes widened in the depths of her hood. “Really?”

“I walked in on them messing around down in Engineering where Jack used to sleep,” she said, and was rewarded with Kasumi’s laughter.

She wasn’t sure how long they talked. Well over an hour, certainly, and long enough for them to drink two cups of tea each. Finally, though, Shepard couldn’t contain her exhausted yawn any longer, and Kasumi took that as a reason to take her leave.

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” she said, getting to her feet. “Oh, and I brought you a present.”

It was then that Shepard noticed the pile of… books, she realized, old-fashioned paper books, piled on the table next to her bed. She got up and went over to pick one up. “ _The Murder at the Vicarage_ ,” she read off the dusty cover.

“Agatha Christie,” Kasumi said, with every evidence of delight. “You’ll like her, I promise. That’s all twelve Miss Marple books. If you like them, I’ll lend you my Poirot collection too.”

Kasumi traveled light, and she kept her sentimental possessions to a minimum: a few pieces of artwork, some recordings, and, of course, her precious paper book collection. Shepard felt unexpectedly touched. “Thank you,” she said.

“Of course, I do expect them back,” Kasumi said. “Which means that you can’t get the Normandy blown up or anything, or you’ll wreck my books.”

Shepard smiled. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

***

So it wasn’t really with any surprise when, a few weeks later at her party, she found Kasumi going through her underwear drawer. She leaned her shoulder on the doorframe and folded her arms. “Can’t you just mingle and have fun like a normal person?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Kasumi asked, as though it was the most reasonable and unembarrassing thing in the world to be caught elbow-deep in someone else’s lingerie drawer. “By the way, you have excellent taste in underwear.”

Shepard felt a wash of affection sweep through her, strong enough to tighten around her heart. “Glad you could make it, Kasumi.”

“Thanks.” Even with Kasumi’s back to her, Shepard could imagine her smile from the warmth in her voice. “I’m having a really good time.”

“By your very strange standards.”

“Yep!” Kasumi came up with a scrap of lacy nothing that Shepard could remember buying on a whim a year before. “Girlier than I was expecting. I kinda thought they’d have a camo pattern.” She tweaked it a little, and then sighed theatrically. “I can imagine better places for this than in a drawer.”

And suddenly, with a faint mental click of pieces coming together—the warm voice in her ear, the welcome of her smile, the direction of the questions and comments she’d been making over the past year—Shepard felt herself suddenly catch on.“Are you coming on to me?”

Kasumi let the panties drop back into the drawer and turned around. Her expression was hesitant and difficult to read. “Congratulations, Shep,” she said with a lightness belied by the uncertain tilt of her smile. “It only took you eight months to figure out.”

Shepard stared. “You couldn’t have been a _little_ more direct about it?”

Kasumi folded her arms, mirroring Shepard. “You know better than that. Asking me not to be subtle is like asking Miranda not to be infuriatingly perfect or asking Garrus not to calibrate something, or….” She trailed off, then brightened. “Or like asking Grunt not to chuckle in a creepy way.”

“I really wouldn’t call you ‘subtle.’”

“Stealthy, then.” She tilted her head. Shepard could just see, deep in the recesses of her hood, the faint reddish glow of her optical implants. “You’re changing the subject, you know. We’ve established that you like my ass and you’re into girls and that I’m hitting on you. And I’m not even on your crew anymore, since you seem the type to get hung up about propriety issues like that. So…?”

And suddenly it was all very simple. _I miss you_ , she thought, and she knew what Kasumi would say: _well, I’m here now_. So she closed the space between them and caught Kasumi’s face in her hands and kissed her.

She had the pleasure of surprising Kasumi for once, she could tell by the little gasp against her lips and the way Kasumi stiffened for just a moment before throwing both arms around her neck and kissing her back with enthusiasm and then some. Her mouth tasted like sticky mixed drinks and her lips were soft—and her teeth sharp, nipping at Shepard, holding tight with strong gloved hands to Shepard’s shoulders…

…and then stepping back and hitting her cloak, vanishing before Shepard’s eyes. “You got that one free,” she said, “but now you have to catch me.”

Kasumi stayed _dark_ , as she put it, for most of the party, decloaking only to interject a pithy and usually entirely inappropriate comment from time to time. But even invisible she kept catching Shepard, a hand on her waist and then a kiss, lingering and soft—and it was so strange to be kissing someone she couldn’t see, to feel lips against hers, the slightly velvety texture of her hooded bodysuit, her lithe firm body beneath Shepard’s hand when she finally, blindly made contact. And then, just when the kiss was deepening, just when Shepard had found the curves of her hips to pull her closer, Kasumi would pull away and vanish, untrackable in the noise and energy of the party.

And then she’d find Shepard again, the only warning a hint of perfume on the air. In combat or on the job, Kasumi used chemical dampers to prevent people from sniffing her out—especially since krogan had sensitive noses, and quarian suits could do a truly impressive amount of on-the-spot chemical analysis—but she’d apparently foregone that for the party, which meant that in the fraction of a second before Kasumi caught her in a kiss as intense as it was silent she could smell a hint of something, something sweet and stinging, foreign and familiar.

By the end of the evening Shepard was buzzing not only with sexual frustration but also with anticipation, because Kasumi might waylay her at any time, any moment she was temporarily alone in a hallway or mixing a drink for someone in the kitchen or catching her breath on the balcony.

But she was Commander Shepard, damn it, and that ought to count for something. When next she caught the elusive scent of Kasumi’s—perfume, lotion, skin?—she tracked it, following not by sight or sound or even scent but by logic. Kasumi had to go _this_ way, because there was no room in the press of bodies _that_ way. There was a dead end here, but you could get past it by going under the table and to the left (and not over it and to the right because there were too many empty cups and crumpled paper plates scattered across its surface for even Kasumi’s dexterous feet to navigate without at least nudging a napkin). And now, down the hall, whisper-quiet and fast and if she guessed right she could reach out and—

—catch Kasumi’s wrist, feel the strong beat of her pulse beneath the tight soft sheath of her clothes, and pull her around and back her up to a wall and kiss _her_ , surprise her, for once, for the first time.

The first kiss missed entirely and left her with a mouthful of hood. The second landed somewhere between Kasumi’s cheek and nose, and Kasumi was laughing, the sound ringing, intoxicating, and so Kasumi’s lips were parted when Shepard finally, inevitably found her target.

One of Kasumi’s hands landed on the small of her back, pulling her closer until they were pressed together, Kasumi’s back against the wall and—

“Commander,” Vega said behind her, and Shepard could only imagine what she looked like, up against the wall making out with nobody. “What are you—”

“Vega,” she said.

“Get lost,” Kasumi said, her voice husky and her breath tickling Shepard’s throat.

“Oh. Uh. _Oh_. Allll righty, I’ll just be… somewhere else,” and he was gone again with the hasty sound of boots on the carpet. Kasumi was laughing again, and even without being able to see her Shepard felt like she could _see_ her, by the rich brilliance of her laughter, by the way her breasts rose and fell against Shepard’s chest.

“Come on,” Shepard said against her mouth, and pulled her a few more steps down the hall and into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. It bounced open again, of course, but that didn’t matter because just then Kasumi’s full weight landed against her, pushing her against the door and knocking it closed for good. Kasumi kissed like she had everything and still wanted more, with an enthusiasm that bordered on aggression. She tasted like sips stolen from unattended drinks and she smelled like—Shepard finally put her finger on it—like the scent of a hillside in spring when everything had just started blooming again.

Shepard hooked an arm around her waist to keep her from escaping again and kissed her back, direct and unhurried, until she felt the hood slip back from Kasumi’s head. If Kasumi decloaked now, Shepard would see her face full-on for the first time (and that sent a thrill through her, too, the reminder that she was kissing a woman whose face she hadn’t even ever seen clearly). She slid a fingertip up the nape of Kasumi’s neck and felt the thick coil of her hair (so she had long hair, under there), heavy and silky on the back of her hand. Felt, too, the shivery tremble that ran down Kasumi’s spine.

Then Kasumi backed up a step, and Shepard almost staggered at the absence of the weight that had pinned her to the door. Kasumi’s gloved fingers tangled through Shepard’s bare ones and she walked them both backwards, toward the bed.

“Do you suppose this is where Anderson—?” Kasumi began, playful.

“No, I picked a different one,” Shepard said. Her voice sounded thin and breathless to her own ears. “I respect him more than almost anyone else alive but there are some things I don’t want to think about.”

“Kind of like thinking about your parents,” Kasumi teased, and then she stopped short at the bedside and simply tumbled backwards.

She could feel the tug of Kasumi’s arm as she let herself fall backwards, and she could see the way the coverlet wrinkled beneath Kasumi’s weight, and let herself be pulled, too, to join her. She couldn’t see Kasumi, though, so her hip landed against Kasumi’s stomach; she could hear the ‘oof.’

“Sorry,” she said.

“Maybe I should…” Kasumi began, and Shepard’s pulse fluttered upward but she didn’t have time to even anticipate before Kasumi dropped her cloak.

When someone hid their face all the time, Shepard realized, on some level you tended to assume they were far to one side of the spectrum or another: hideous or gorgeous, angel or monster. But Kasumi was a woman, simply and wonderfully a woman: the familiar curve of her mouth (and her narrow vertical line of lipcolor smudged with kisses), her slim straight nose and high cheekbones, dark eyes with wry arched eyebrows and the faint glitter of cybernetic implants, silky black hair coiled at the back of her neck and threaded with the beginning of gray at her temples. And yet she was unbelievably beautiful, this woman who had _been_ there for so long, a spot of warmth and laughter that kept her from feeling utterly cold and isolated.

“So?” Kasumi said.

“Kasumi,” she said, her voice caressing the syllables, and that was clearly answer enough because Kasumi pulled her down for another kiss, and another, and another, and light bloomed open in Shepard’s chest.

“You’re pretty incredible too, you know,” Kasumi said, between kisses. “People may not stare at your ass when you walk down a hall, but you stop conversation and people can’t help watching you wherever you go.”

“Because they’re afraid of me,” Shepard said. She sat up to pull off her shirt, and felt a brief pang of wishing she’d chosen to wear one of the girly confections Kasumi had been examining. But it turned out not to matter because almost as soon as her shirt was off Kasumi had somehow managed to get her bra off, too.

“Terror and lust aren’t actually that far apart,” Kasumi said, and smiled, and she had _dimples_.

Shepard set about getting Kasumi out of her bodysuit, but that turned out to be considerably easier said than done. The whole thing seemed to be of a piece, from her soft catburglar boots to her gloves to the hood that crumpled around her shoulders now, and there were no visible fasteners to loosen. And Kasumi wasn’t helping, squirming and making little pleased noises and Shepard ran her hands up and down her body with increasingly-frustrated insistence.

“How do you get the damn thing _off_?” she finally asked, and Kasumi took pity and hit some secret catch that revealed the fasteners along one side of her torso and at her wrists and ankles. 

And under the the thick, soft weight of her catsuit she was entirely naked, wiry-slim and muscular with smooth skin and firm rounded breasts that trembled as she panted for breath. No underwear. Whatever cybernetics she had (and Shepard was sure she had some) were well-concealed.

And while Shepard was staring, Kasumi took advantage of her distraction to flip them both over, pinning her hands to the bed and kissing her.

Shepard lost her pants in swift time after that. They twined together, skin to skin, Kasumi small and lean and almost unbelievably flexible, and Shepard taller, heavier with curves over muscle. Kasumi’s fingers tangled in her chin-length hair as if to hold her in place for a kiss that was as much teeth as lips, and Kasumi’s skin tasted sweet and salty, perfectly normal, perfectly _human_. Shepard could feel Kasumi’s fast pulse under her tongue.

“Shepard,” Kasumi said, tightly, “stop teasing.”

“You’re the one on top,” Shepard said, and Kasumi solved that by rolling them both over again. “Come on, then,” she said, parting her legs and grinding her apex against Shepard’s thigh. She was, god, wet and hot and so _alive._

It took some maneuvering to line them up right, but Kasumi’s flexibility helped—she hooked one leg, finally, up over Shepard’s shoulder to open herself up, and Shepard hooked her knee over Kasumi’s hip so that they were lined up right so they could grind together, soft to soft. They were both so wet that it took some work to get the friction right, but Kasumi helped them along by winding her free leg around Shepard’s hip and pulling. She made a little noise with each thrust, digging one hand into the back of Shepard’s neck and the other fisting in the coverlet.

“God,” Shepard said despite herself, as sparks of pleasure shot up her spine. “ _God_ , Kasumi.” Each deep grinding thrust pushed her closer—pushed them both closer—again and again, and she could feel her own pleasure rising, spiraling upward, even as she felt Kasumi tense and tense and tense beneath her like wire drawn taut, throaty moans and eyelids fluttering.

Kasumi came first, thrashing and pulling the coverlet half off the bed. Shepard could _feel_ her pulsing and that sensation almost put her over the edge herself. She pressed her mouth against Kasumi’s exposed throat, marking her with bites and kisses where no one would see, where hood and catsuit would hide them, a secret for the two of them. And then the edges of her orgasm caught her and pushed her past the edge, into a whirlwind of wet heat, throbbing so deep that it tightened the muscles of her thighs, made her shudder and kick as she screamed between clenched teeth.

Afterward they lay together in the tangled mess of the bedsheets, Kasumi’s head on Shepard’s shoulder and her hair a long loose veil across Shepard’s breasts. “Mm,” she said, voice low and throaty. “Told you it was a good party, Shep.”

“I wasn’t quite expecting _this_ good,” Shepard said, stroking her fingertips through Kasumi’s hair. She’d had long hair once, when she was a teenager… had cut it short when she joined the service and never let it get longer than chin-length since, it was too much bother, but she could enjoy the sensuality of it on someone else.

Kasumi’s long fingers curled around the curve where Shepard’s hip met her waist and drummed there, possessive. “I feel like I’ve just pulled the biggest heist of my career,” she said. “I’ve hijacked the mighty Commander Shepard.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being hijacked. I feel like I was at least half responsible.”

“Only because I’ve been ever so patiently laying the groundwork for almost a year,” Kasumi said dryly. “A good heist requires a lot of advance planning, after all. And you’re a bit thick about some things.”

Shepard laughed, and leaned forward to kiss the hollow at the corner of her eye, then the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth. “And you’re too sneaky for your own good.”

“No such thing as _too_ sneaky,” Kasumi said, nestling herself against Shepard’s side, tucked up under her arm. 

She fit so well there, slim and warm, that Shepard could not have possibly stopped herself from saying, “You know we really would be glad to have you back on the Normandy.”

Kasumi sat up then. Her hair fell forward over her face, half-veiling her features much as her hood usually did, rendering her at once mysterious and familiar. “You know I’m doing more good out here. I’m not much of a team player.”

“You did fine before—”

“That was an unusual set of circumstances.” She smiled a little, bittersweet. “I’m doing a lot more for the cause by stealing technology and information from Cerberus than I would backstabbing people by your side… as much fun as that would be.”

Shepard was silent a long time, but finally she had to exhale, to say, “I know. I miss you, that’s all.”

Kasumi lay back down again, twining her fingers through Shepard’s. “I’ll be around, you know I can’t stay away for long.” She tightened her grip and Shepard returned the gesture. Then, lighter, Kasumi said, “Won’t your guests be wondering where you got to?”

“I would bet you money that Vega went and told them we were messing around approximately ten seconds after he caught us,” Shepard said, and pressed another kiss to Kasumi’s laughing mouth.

***

In some ways the most exhausting part of fighting this kind of war was the _meetings_. Combat, Shepard was good at. Combat, she could do. But the meetings….

There were so many decisions to be made, and all of them depressing. How to handle the ever-increasing flow of refugees. How to convince the citizens of worlds that were thus far safe to help those on worlds that were under attack. Which colonies to save, and which to let fall to spare the others.

She’d spent the morning with Anderson and Hackett, the afternoon with Victus and Wrex and Kirrahe and Raan (and _that_ was an adventure), and now she had to sit through an interminable meeting with the Council. And the councilors were clearly exhausted too, because after about ten minutes they’d drifted from reasonable discussion to bickering. All Shepard wanted to do was tell them to wake her up when they were through, put her head down on the armrest of the couch, and sleep.

“It must’ve been a lot easier when you could just hang up on them,” said a voice very close and warm in her ear. Shepard, to her credit, neither jumped out of her skin nor bit through her tongue, but it was a close thing. “I know I wasn’t there for that,” Kasumi continued, “but Joker filled me in.”

Shepard couldn’t feel any breath on her ear or neck, so she figured probably Kasumi wasn’t actually right next to her but had hacked into her commpiece implant. She forced herself not to look around. It wasn’t as though she’d be able to see Kasumi anyway.

“I know you said you’d see me tonight,” Kasumi continued, “but I got impatient. It’s been a while.” And then Shepard felt the unmistakable sensation of someone drawing a velvet-clad fingertip across the back of her shoulders, brushing briefly over the bare skin at the nape of her neck.

“…stretching our resources to the limit with your ridiculous…” Velarn was saying, voice trembling with righteous indignation. Shepard tuned him out again.

“And I thought you might need a distraction.” Kasumi’s voice was so clear, so warm and amused and real, that Shepard almost couldn’t believe that the councilors hadn’t heard her. But Tevos was shaking a finger at Sparatus now, and none of them were paying any attention to her. Kasumi’s hand settled on Shepard’s shoulder. 

Then there was a brief invisible flurry of movement—Shepard was only aware of it by the change in the texture of the air, the brief breeze as Kasumi swung herself over the back of the couch and settled sideways across Shepard’s lap.

Shepard nearly choked.

Kasumi was being very careful not to rest her whole weight on Shepard, too, to avoid telltale dips and creases on Shepard’s uniform. No one in the room could possibly have told that she was there… except, of course, for Shepard.

The curve of her ass, the strong lean muscles of her thighs; her small breasts pressed against Shepard’s side, and the hell of it was that Shepard didn’t dare even _move_. She felt as much as heard Kasumi’s low chuckle. Kasumi had draped an arm across Shepard’s shoulders and was walking her fingertips along her upper arm, up her shoulder and her neck. She leaned in and pressed a slow, warm kiss to Shepard’s cheekbone and then her ear, and—quick as a blink— _bit_ her earlobe.

“…if you weren’t so concerned about your precious…” Sparatus was saying. Shepard tuned him out again.

Kasumi’s warm weight pressed closer to Shepard’s thigh. She was kissing and nibbling along Shepard’s jawline, now, and the hell of it was that Shepard really very badly wanted to reciprocate. Actually she wanted to roll both herself and Kasumi off the couch and onto the floor and go at it, cloaked or not, and to hell with the councilors.

She clenched her teeth and resisted.

“I’ve missed you, Shep,” Kasumi said. “I know you’ll say it’s my own fault for not coming with you and maybe you’re right, but still.” Another kiss, hot and wet, just below her ear and making her shudder all over. Funny how she was so exhausted a few minutes before and so electrified now. “When this is over we’re going to have really _good_ ramen and then have sex until neither of us can move.” Her hand moved, feather-light, down over Shepard’s breast until it settled between her legs. Shepard stifled a gasp by biting her lip.

“…beyond capacity and yet you still expect…” Tevos was saying.

Kasumi’s fingertips stroked lightly along the seam at the crotch of her pants, with just barely enough pressure to be noticeable. She murmured in Shepard’s ear, “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Then, just as fast, she was gone, leaving Shepard cold.

Sparatus took that opportunity to say, “What do _you_ think, Shepard?” Shepard took a steadying breath, clung for a moment to the memory of Kasumi’s warm, familiar weight against her, and then banished it and started talking.

An hour later, when she was alone again, Shepard put her hand in her pocket and found something small and solid that hadn’t been there before. She pulled it out. It was an access chip for an apartment, the type you got when you enabled triple-factor authentication on your door locks, and wrapped around it was a piece of paper— _paper_ , archaic as that was. Scribbled on the corner of the paper was an address and a number.

She stared dumbly at it for a long moment. Kasumi was always very private about her… ‘home’ was probably the wrong word; ‘the place where she slept’ was closer. A thief always needed a bolthole that nobody knew about. But Shepard was pretty sure she was holding the address of Kasumi’s current abode in her hand. It was a gesture in some ways far more intimate than sex.

She slipped the access chip and the paper back in her pockets, feeling suddenly light despite the exhaustion weighing her limbs.

***

It was strange, to be using a tactical cloak and to not be able to see yourself. Shepard knew that a lot of people found biotics weird, but they’d always been normal to her. But walking around invisible? _That_ was weird.

Fortunately, her HUD outlined her limbs in wavering blue so that at least she wasn’t likely to try to put her arm through a door in her confusion. But it was still quite a difficulty. She had new admiration for Kasumi’s abilities.

She was waiting in Kasumi’s apartment, holding very still and not even quite daring to breathe, when the door whisked open. Kasumi strode through with her usual lack of hesitation, dropping a pile of data pads on the counter. She stopped to open the refrigerator and examine the contents, and then pulled out a bottle of iced tea.

Shepard waited for her moment.

Kasumi cracked open the bottle of iced tea, and poured half of it into one glass… and half of it into the other. And, without even turning around, said, “I know you’re there, you realize.”

Shepard exhaled on a laugh. “Now who’s the spoilsport?”

Kasumi waved a hand dismissively. She held out one of the glasses of iced tea, and Shepard took it. (She was proud that she managed to grab it without dropping or spilling. Being invisible really was _surprisingly_ difficult.)

“Decloak, please,” Kasumi said, and Shepard realized that she was being made fun of, a little. She didn’t mind, though. She dropped the cloak.

Kasumi put down her iced tea, took Shepard’s from her and put it on the counter, and kissed her. It lasted for a while. Then, pulling back, her eyes glittering in the depths of her hood, she said, “Tell me about your day.”

That took some time, and then there were… other things to do. Afterward they lay together in Kasumi’s bed, Kasumi’s skin wet with sweat, her hair a delicious tangle under Shepard’s fingers. Shepard stared at the ceiling and allowed herself to forget, for a little while, both past and future—to forget everything but the woman here with her, in her arms, bright and funny and private and warm.

She let her gaze go fuzzy, taking in the curve of Kasumi’s body under the light sheets, the no-doubt-expensive abstract artwork on the walls, the clutter of things on the side table. There were two pictures on the table, too. Both were clearly candids, taken without the subjects’ knowledge. 

One she recognized as Keiji Okuda, standing in front of an open window with sun lighting his hair. He was laughing, leaning back against the windowsill, looking very relaxed. 

The other was of Shepard herself. She could remember when it had been taken, although not _that_ it had been taken—typical Kasumi sneakiness, no doubt. She picked it up to look more closely. It was in the crew mess, she remembered, on a day back before they’d gone after the Collectors. A year ago now, probably, give or take. She’d been talking with Garrus and Tali and Grunt about… what, some ridiculous video game, and Kasumi had caught her with a hand lifted, her eyes alight.

It was a good picture, she had to admit.

“It’s foolish of me to keep pictures here,” Kasumi said quietly. Shepard hadn’t realized she was awake. “I’m not in them, of course, I’m not _that_ foolish, but it wouldn’t be too hard for someone breaking in here to figure out who I am from those two.”

Shepard put the picture back down. “It’s human, wanting things like that around.”

Kasumi didn’t say anything, but she twined her fingers through Shepard’s. After a moment, Shepard lifted their joined hands and kissed Kasumi’s knuckles. Kasumi said, “Come back after this is all over, Shepard.”

“I will,” Shepard said, and allowed herself to believe—for a little while—that it was possible that she would. That she would always have this warmth to return to, and that she’d always be able, one way or another, to return.


End file.
